Elegy
by mellish
Summary: The hurt after the battle is a difficult thing to endure, especially for the souls that have been left behind. Saya and Hagi struggle with the weight of the loss.
1. After the Battle

Warning: Spoilers for episodes 32.**  
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**Elegy**

**i.**

Saya cries after the battle, half-naked and bleeding and unable to keep the tears from streaming down her face – exhaustion and distress and hatred leaking out of her eyes until she is blinded. She leans on her swords and screams, howls; it nearly sounds like a child being slaughtered. Hagi watches her through heavily lidded eyes, waiting for the life to flow back into his fingers. When he can move again, he wrenches the ruby shards from his chest, breathing heavily. (One of Karl's feet was just barely a stump, and Diva's dress had been torn into a skirt, but they were both still laughing as they left, sharing a madness so strong and searing it made him almost weep to hear it.)

He presses a hand to his wounds, feeling the skin start to stitch itself together. When the blood has stopped flowing he walks over to her, unbuttoning his cloak and draping it unceremoniously over her shoulders. She tugs at the fabric, unable to say anything, unable to move. She is delirious with sadness. He reaches for her hand, and her body jerks at the contact, the sword gives way – he catches her before she can slump to the floor, bundling her up like a baby. She is too weak to do anything else, and she collapses sobbing into his arms.

"I couldn't stop her." Her eyes are red darts though a waterfall. She coughs, she sputters, she has to take sharp, serrated breaths. He does not say anything – he cannot – the words have dwindled over the decades, becoming less distinct as his notes grew cleaner and sharper. He has traded a bow for his tongue and strings for syllables – but it's the first time in a long time that he has realized, _it isn't enough. _She digs her nails into his arm. "Riku –" she gasps. "Riku, he –"

This time he does not stay silent; the anguish in her voice is too painful. Perhaps it is selfishness, but he can't stand to see her suffer so much. "Saya, please. Don't say any more." She gives up. The words melt into screeches, into shakes, into her fingers squeezing his hand as her cuts slowly disappear. They didn't have time to watch the ship sink, with Karl flying around them, attacking, and Diva in his arms – but the empty, ruined harbor was proof enough of all the souls swallowed by the sea.

She is trying not to die; she is scratched and torn and broken inside out, and the tears won't stop. He holds her as the fire burns and the debris flutters around them like ash-gray butterflies. He holds her as the silence composes a tuneless lullaby, until even Saya grows limp and silent, the tracks of tears against her cheeks vivid in her dirty face. He holds her as a burning sun sets the sky aflame, eyes sad as he watches her dream of nightmares they all know to be true.

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A/N: Thank you for reading. Comments would be well appreciated. Part 2 will be up soon enough. :D 


	2. An Ordinary Sadness

**Elegy**

**ii.**

Perhaps he should be happy that they're getting back into routine, but he isn't really (or maybe he just can't remember how to be enthusiastic, considering the long years he has spent walking alone, waiting for the war to end - for a promise to be fulfilled). They lived everyday in routine before, and now they are starting the cycle again: training in the morning until one of them bleeds; scouting in the afternoon, listening to news and gossip for where they might find the enemy next.

Saya has cried herself out, her eyes taking on a newfound hardness, her grasp on the sword more ruthless, but somehow less purposeful. It's not worry exactly that he's feeling, as he watches her slice her blade through the air in graceful curves. It's just that she's different, more now than ever before, and it's unsettling in its way, although he will certainly get used to it in time (because they have all the time in the world, at least until the battle is over).

She does not mention Kai, or David, or Joel; she does not say anything about comrades or family or friends. She does not smile, or maybe she has forgotten, the way Haji almost has – but he was never very good at it, anyway. Sometimes he catches her staring at the jewel in her sword, her eyes faraway and agonized, remembering a time she can never return to; a memory so precious she does not want what's left of it to be harmed in any way.

It isn't her memories of the Zoo, certainly. That's where all this trouble started, after all. But Haji doesn't like to compare decades – as long as he can be with her, it doesn't matter. He plays his cello for her on those nights when she can't sleep, remembering that it was once she who played this melody. She listens with ears that don't seem to hear – the only thing she is searching for is that song, that aria: Diva's voice beckoning her to retribution and revenge.

He helps her dress in the morning, lacing up her collar and sometimes even her boots. Gratitude is a dry breath that has long expired between them. If he can do even the littlest thing for her, he is satisfied, with or without acknowledgment. Sometimes, however, he can't help but feel upset about his weakness. He can give her blood and he can take any number of wounds and cuts for her sake, but he can't make her happy, and he never will.

"Saya," he says one day – she is looking at herself absentmindedly in the mirror, almost as if she has only just registered how long her hair has grown – "Saya, is there anything I can do for you?" Because she has not been asking lately. Because she has not been_speaking_lately. She looks at him, and the weight of the world is in her eyes. He almost drops to his knees; he cannot believe that burden.

"You do everything for me already," she answers, surprised at the sound of her voice – it has grown rough and scraped, like a tarnished sword. "And that's more than I deserve." He kneels by her side as she curls up in silence, and this is routine as well – he holds her hand as she trembles with the effort of not crying, of not crumbling under the pressure of all the trouble they cannot escape.

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A/N: Thanks for reading. Comments would be greatly appreciated. :D I'm not too sure about how I did Hagi's voice, but I tried. xx;; This _may _serve as a prequel for another short Hagi and Saya fic, but we'll see how that goes. 


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